


Spitfires

by rhythmicroman



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: (jerome calls jeremiah 'miah'), Canonical Character Death, Ecco is Harley Quinn, Foreshadowing, Ghosts, Hallucination!Jerome, Hallucinations, Haunting, I'm Bad At Tagging, Identity Issues, Jeremiah and Jerome are both the joker, Light Angst, Mild Blood, Nicknames, One Shot, Probably Canon Divergent, References to Shakespeare, Scars, Short, Short One Shot, gotham needs some good therapists, how many tags does jerome specifically need: a novel, kind of, strangling is mentioned briefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 20:07:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14528193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhythmicroman/pseuds/rhythmicroman
Summary: Sometimes, if Jeremiah wasn’t careful, his brother would appear.





	Spitfires

**Author's Note:**

> some quick explanations~  
> \- i'm a strong believer that s4 could be entirely prevented if gotham had better fucking therapists  
> \- me? a jerome valeska stan? yessir  
> \- jerome calls jeremiah "miah" simply bc that's what i call him when writing informally about him, bc his name is Long and Annoying  
> \- **both jerome and jeremiah are the joker.** the joker himself is an idea, the idea is brought to life by jeremiah, with jerome co-piloting from inside his head. they're both individually referred to as "the joker" and referred to as a duo as "jokers".  
>  \- this was legitimately born from [my own shitpost on tumblr](http://reversetom.tumblr.com/post/173554500727/with-all-this-jerome-haunting-jeremiah-talk-all-i). ur welcome

Sometimes, if Jeremiah wasn’t careful, his brother would appear.

It was most frequent in the mirror; he’d be carefully adjusting his outfit, and Jerome would pop up out of nowhere, chattering near-incoherently about how he hated the formality of it all, wished “Miah” would give it a little flair – and then, as quickly as he’d appeared, he was gone.

Jerome somehow became even more insufferable when trapped inside his twin’s head. His voice had a distressingly joyous lilt to it, warped and lisped by the echo in Jeremiah’s skull, and he had a tendency to growl and choke on his words. When it was especially dark outside, and Ecco had been out for especially long, he’d groan and whisper from behind his brother’s back; and Jeremiah would curse Jim Gordon for letting his brother die, because he’d much rather strangle him himself.

Some days, the guilt of his lies choked him up, and Jerome would appear again – much crueller now, with his scarred face twisted into a glare, his voice choppy and full of rage. He’d yell again and again how much he hated his twin, how much he loathed his lies and his perfect child persona; and then he’d be quiet again, eyebrows furrowed, speaking quietly and calmly about how disappointed he was.

Jeremiah’s mind conjured up a chaotic being in place of his twin. If he hadn’t seen Jerome’s corpse for himself, he’d almost believe it was really him.

By the time the guilt began to simmer, Ecco would find her way home, and dry Jeremiah’s tears from his bloodshot eyes. She’d speak softly, and sing, and mutter promises that Jerome was really, truly dead; and Jeremiah would nod, watching Jerome’s ghost out of the corner of his eye, giggling and tormenting him.

He got the guts, once, to ask Jerome why he remained. It wasn’t anything particularly eloquent – a simple “why”, breaking the silence in Jeremiah’s bedroom – but Jerome still took a step backwards, eyes widening in surprise, gnawing at his bloodied, scabbed lip in contemplation.

“Because,” he decided finally, “you and I were made for this. Gotham was built from trash and blood, it was built to burn; and you and I, well…”

Jerome’s laugh came out strangled and low, a grim reminder of his death.

“…we always were little spitfires, weren’t we?”

And as much as Jeremiah tried to hide it, he and his brother really were alike; Jerome’s laughter was contagious, as was his philosophy, and he soon found himself playing along.

Ecco always looked worried nowadays, when he talked about him and Jerome’s plans. Jeremiah could never quite figure out why – after all, Jerome was alive. They, the most dynamic of duos, were destined to destroy the hellfire that they called Gotham City.

And, well – Jerome guided Jeremiah’s hand to the snow-white mask on the countertop, folding their fingers around it in unison – Jokers always need their Harlequins.


End file.
